


raise a glass to easy choices

by orphan_account



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Drinking to Cope, F/F, Infidelity, M/M, Pregnancy, drinking while pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mary tells Robert what she knows.





	raise a glass to easy choices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vassalady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/gifts).



_“Joseph… Joseph, please,”_ Mary remembers as she watches Robert walk in the door. It’s Saturday and she doesn’t have to look respectable for at least another twelve hours. There’s a reason why they meet at a bar closer to Robert’s house than hers: no one will find her here, on the wrong side of town. 

Mary shuts her eyes to vanquish the sounds, only to have them replaced with unwanted images. The door had only been partially open, but she could still make out Robert’s hair on the sheets. On _her_ sheets. Joseph’s long back above him, moving slowly in and out of Robert’s body. Mary had backed away quietly, clutching the ultrasound picture in her hand and getting back in the car. So here she is now, clutching a Corona and waiting for Robert to make it to her table.

“Hey,” he says, sliding in the booth across from her.

“Hey,” she answers. When she doesn’t offer anything further, Robert asks, “What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant,” Mary says, without preamble.

A look of fear flashes in his eyes, but Robert schools his face into what he must think is a smile. “Congratulations, I guess, but uh… should you really be drinking that?”

“You’re having sex with my husband, Robert. I’ll do what I want,” Mary takes an intentional swig from the bottle, reveling in Robert’s pained expression. “Besides, this is 4.5% alcohol. That’s practically kombucha. It’ll be my last one til I’m done breastfeeding. Again.” 

“Mary, I… It wasn’t - ”

“My husband is a youth minister,” she interrupts. “It's his job to bring God to hormonal, sex obsessed teenagers and that wouldn’t be possible if he weren’t an easy man to love. But it also means that he can’t go around parading his gay lover in public, even if said gay lover is a hot biker who can handle his whiskey.”

Mary is leaning in close now, grinning widely, like they’re two friends sharing an inside joke.

“This is my fifth time to the rodeo; I know exactly how good Joseph is at sex. When I heard you whine his name, I wasn’t jealous or angry, I thought, ‘Wow, my boy’s still got it.’ He probably drew it out, took you slowly until you forgot everything but his name, called out for a god you don’t really believe in.”

Mary looks away now, because this part does hurt. Not the fact that she lost her husband, their marriage had been lost a long time ago. She hurts for the life that she imagined on her wedding day. Mary and Joseph. The chosen couple.

Robert looks about as wrecked as she feels, but he chugs what’s left of her Corona when she slides it over to him.

“Chris is at a church retreat and the twins are at a sleepover. I suggest you make it to the house as soon as possible.”

At this, Robert looks up. “I… what?”

“I love my husband and want him to be happy. What makes him happy is you.”

“And you?” Robert asks, hesitant.

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t share him. _Love thy neighbor_ , and all that.”

For a moment, Robert wavers. Waits. Looks like he’s prepared if she decides to reach across the table and throttle him. Mary shifts back to rest against her booth and throws her keys on the table.

“Oh no,” she says, in a fake breathy voice. “Did we somehow switch our house keys at the bar? Guess you’ll have to go looking for me at the house, only to have Joseph tell you that I’m having a girl’s night at my sister’s place. You might even have to spend the night until I get home.”

“...you’re a crafty one, Christiansen,” he whispers, halfway between incredulous and relieved.

“Gotta be. I’m a pastor’s wife.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ficlet for a friend who needed a little angst in her life. Not beta'd and definitely not in my comfort zone.
> 
> The title comes from a line in _The Man I Knew_ by Dessa.


End file.
